


i want it, i need it, i want somebody

by katfoxmandu



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: F/F, One-Shot, SuperCorp, bc i'd rather write this than write 15 pages on natural hazards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 14:27:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11557101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katfoxmandu/pseuds/katfoxmandu
Summary: 2x12a warning not acceptedbut a friendship wantedand a realization as to what is okand what isn't





	i want it, i need it, i want somebody

The conversation had been tense.

Harsh words and sentences snapped in retaliation. Lena tired of the accusations, the attention, the press. She pushes through the doors to her office, Kara by her side. Together. Yet in conflict. Not fighting. Not arguing. Just persistence.

“You _know_ I was at the jail last night to see my mother-“

She knows. Kara knows. Kara knows where she was. What she was doing. Who she was visiting. Kara knows. She knows _her_.   Lena. These months of friendship haven’t been a fluke or a folly, some sort of distraction to ultimately betray her. Right? Of course not. Because Kara knows.

Lena’s feet stop. Her strength gone. The resignation in Kara’s voice bringing her back to the conversation, the seriousness of the situation. No longer tense, harsh words forgotten and put away.

Her hands fill the void between them. The silence not uncomfortable but waiting, there in Kara’s eyes and the way her fingers wind together. The subtle arch of her eyebrows. She knows. She knows Lena. Her goodness. Her lack of Luthor deception and bigotry.

“Tell me, what are people saying?”

The silence returns, fingers still intertwined. Yet striking blue eyes never leave hers. Lena’s heart skips as the seconds tick past. Does Kara really know? Is the folly real? A trick of the game to catch yet another Luthor? The sounds of traffic float up from the streets below. The passing cars and impatience of the drivers. Still the silence settles and Lena’s hands imitate Kara’s. Pressed with white knuckles. Nervous. Tense.

“That you may have also visited Metallo.”

The words slam into Lena. Like the traffic outside the window. She had hoped and yet knew that this was coming. She’d known. From the moment Kara had stepped out of the elevator, the look in her eyes, the expression on her face. As they’d pushed through the office doors, the guilt radiating off of the reporter, the heat, the tension. Snapped words and accusing tones.

I’m innocent, Lena wants to cry. To shout. To be heard above the pointed fingers and media. She never thought she’d have to yell to be heard by Kara. By the person she thought knew her.

An accepting smile plays across her face, pursed at the corners, her eyes looking anywhere but _hers_.

“You think that’s something I would do,” the final word rings out, washes over Kara’s face. Lena sees the hurt that’s there. The guilt. The accusations now bouncing back to the accuser.

Kara begins to explain, her eyes flutter shut, her lips part, and for a moment Lena is distracted. But she can’t. She can’t forget the impending repercussions or the fallout. She can’t forget that Kara Danvers is a colleague, a work partner, a reporter doing their job. A friend?

So she cuts her off. So she can remember. That maybe Kara doesn’t know. Maybe Lena is a Luthor. And that perhaps she’s been the one dabbling in follies and flukes all along.

A sudden intrusion halts the conversation. The accusation? The break-up Lena knew had been coming?

Her eyes go wide and her ears buzz. She doesn’t want to hear it. She doesn’t want to believe it. The detective comes forward, fulfilling everything that Kara had just told her. The probable cause. The evidence. And the removal of the last person Lena has on her side. The reporter trying to be a friend.

And so Lena forgets. She forgets that perhaps Kara doesn’t know. That their relationships is built on professional ties and corporate dealings. And she remembers that Kara came. To warn her. To help her. To not accuse but befriend.

“No.”

For once her hands don’t give her away. They don’t fumble over the words or twist together in desperation. They stay still by her side, sure and steady. Confident.

“I want her to stay.”

Lena watches as the confidence radiates to Kara. Who’s tightly wound fingers now find themselves crossed over her chest, feet spread sure, chin tilted upward. It’s a position that Lena recognizes. A stance becoming of few. One only heroes use in the face of danger, in the protection of the people. In defense of those they love.

Her eyes are drawn away only by the video. The video that isn’t her. The return of tense conversations and snapping words.

“It’s not me!” she cries. Hear me! Listen to me! But the pointed fingers are too loud. The accusations are too strong.

But it’s oh so familiar. Something impossible to deny. A Luthor in handcuffs, the forceful pull of her hands behind her back. The hands that had been so strong just moments earlier now weak and bound by the cold metal.

“It’s ok.”

She gives up.

Her eyes glaze, the background fuzzy and unclear, the acceptance written across her face. Of course. A Luthor in handcuffs. Her rightful place. Her destiny. Where she belongs. So it’s ok.

What’s not ok is the shock written across Kara’s face. The disbelief. Her mouth dropped open and her eyebrows furrowed together, as though this couldn’t be happening. That Lena was never meant for this. That the Miranda Rights being recited by the detective are just background noise, filler, unimportant and unnecessary.

But it’s real.

Lena can feel the biting of the handcuffs and the tight grip of the officer’s hands on her arms. The strong pushes forward, guiding her out of her office. _Her_ office. The one she has control over. The one where she chooses who can enter and who cannot. The one where Kara has free access at all times because she’s Kara. And Kara _knows_.

So Lena looks away. Her eyes focused on the solid wooden door in front of her, the steps to the elevator, to the police car. She can’t think of Kara left behind in her office. Of her superhero stance or the territory marked by the bag she’d dropped in defiance. The way she’d disrupted a formal investigation. How she’d heard Lena’s shouts, her pleas to be heard and understood.

The look she’d had when Lena had given up.

That’s what’s real.

And it’s not ok.

**Author's Note:**

> hey hey!  
> it's summer  
> school isn't out  
> and homework isn't done  
> but there's always room for procrastination


End file.
